


You Know Those Things Last Forever, Right?

by inviernos



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Pre-Game(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-10 19:01:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11132823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inviernos/pseuds/inviernos
Summary: A few scenes from along Gladio's tattoo journey feat. the other guys.





	You Know Those Things Last Forever, Right?

**Author's Note:**

> So I had always looked at Gladio's tattoo and thought about how much it probably would have sucked for him to wait around for it to heal, so then this happened.
> 
> There are small mentions of blood, skin flaking off, scabs and other things associated with healing tattoos in this, but nothing too graphic. But still, please feel free to avoid if you need to.

i. His back

It was a good thing that Gladiolus could usually sleep any which way.  He still preferred to sleep sprawled out on his back, but he hadn’t been so lucky for the last couple of weeks.

This last session the artist made progress towards the middle of his back, and had started a basic outline on his shoulder blades; but there were also some details in the tail feathers on his lower back that needed touching up.  His training had been more intense than he had expected since the last time he’d been in, and unfortunately the sweat may have ruined the work that had already been done.  He couldn’t stop himself from sweating, but he had to try to be more careful after this.

But so far, he was impressed.  He had done his research and found who he thought was the most capable artist in Insomnia and hadn’t been let down.  Most of the tattoo so far had been done freehand simply because it was too big to have a proper stencil made for.  But from what had been done, Gladio felt like it could have almost been copied exactly from a painting.

He had no problem being shirtless most of the time; he didn’t want to take any risks with this, but unfortunately he couldn’t be shirtless all of the time.  There was always work.  And then there were those few times when friends would invite him out and he’d just have to grin and bear it.  Or he’d be outside and a breeze would come and stick his shirt to the skin he’d just applied ointment to.  He’d try to wear looser fitting shirts when he had to be clothed, but it didn’t always work out.

Thankfully his artist had agreed to tattoo him after close of business on most days so that afterwards he could just go home and go to sleep.

Or at least try to.

He was currently lying on his stomach, willing himself to fall asleep.  He had been trying for over an hour now but his back was so sore.  It was starting to hurt to breathe.  The noise from the ceiling fan usually helped him fall asleep, but now all it did was remind him how much it stung whenever the air hit his back.

It was starting to get too warm under this blanket.  He tried just listening to his own breathing but the longer he stayed awake the more annoyed he got.  He picked up his phone and scrolled through an article for a bit.  Finally, the last thing he remembered before his whole body shook was reading something about flowers.

His eyes opened slowly as he remembered where he was.  The light from his phone was too bright and he blinked it away as he tried to check the time. 

“Ugh,” he groaned.

He had only been sleeping for about an hour.  There were about five more hours to go until his alarm went off and then he’d have to deal with trying to wash his back.  He hoped he’d be able to move by then. 

The air from the ceiling fan continued to hit his face and Gladio stilled.

He was still groggy from waking up from not enough sleep, but his instincts were telling him something wasn’t quite right.  He needed to move something, but what?  He stared at the ceiling fan spinning around, watching the fan’s blades merge into one and play tricks on his eyes in the darkness.

He kept watching, his eyes drooping as the motion almost hypnotized him and then he realized. 

He was facing the ceiling fan.

“ _Shit_ ,” his eyes were wide open.

He flipped over as quickly as he could onto his stomach. 

Gladio groaned.  He usually didn’t move much in his sleep, but of course he would manage to roll over onto his tattoo.

It was only an hour, he figured.  Nothing that bad could have happened to it already.

Or at least he hoped.

Gladio moved to try and situate his blanket so that it wasn’t touching any part of his back again and lay back onto his stomach.  This time he made sure to turn on the white noise app on his phone.  He saved it as a last resort, but it usually worked in a pinch. 

The sound of wind rushing over a lazy sea soon filled his ears.  He started to picture himself walking along a beach somewhere.  It was nighttime and the moon was shining down onto the water.  He was barefoot walking beside the shallow water, there was a sudden crunch of sand beneath his feet and the weather was just right. 

He saw himself walking further into the sea until his calves were submerged in the water.  (He was conveniently wearing pants that were already cuffed, thank you subconscious).  He surrendered to the sound of the waves playing as if on a loop in his mind, and suddenly he didn’t have to do the thinking anymore.

Gladio walked even further into the sea, noticing that the water was the perfect temperature.  Wherever this was, much nicer than Galdin Quay, he could definitely get used to this.  He took in the sight of the moon shining onto waters that were just barely rolling, joined by the stars twinkling above them.  It was peaceful.  Almost too peaceful, but he couldn’t let that bother him at this moment.

But just as soon as he was content to stand in the water and enjoy his surroundings a gust of wind blew past him.  The water in front of him was no longer calm.  The waves were getting stronger, starting to knock him off balance.  The harder he fought to stand up straight and make his way out of the waters, the harder the wind blew.  A sudden storm hit and was determined to send one wave straight for him.  He could already feel the spray from the towering wave on his face, he turned his back to it in an attempt to run, but it was too late.  He felt the water on his back, accompanied by a loud crashing noise.

Gladio, a little out of breath, blinked his eyes open once again and found himself staring up at the ceiling fan again.  His body tensed.

“God dammit!”

He checked his phone again and saw that it was now four in the morning. 

Three hours were better than one.  He moved around under his blankets and noticed it was feeling a little damp under his back.

“ _Better get up and wash this_ ,” he thought.

But he spent the next couple of minutes staring at his phone until he finally succumbed to another short nap.

He groaned as he slowly forced himself up and out of the bed.  But his back ached so much he was only able to lift himself up about halfway before he flopped back down.  He tried again and was just barely successful.

He made his way into the bathroom as fast as he could considering his soreness, and pawed at the wall until he hit the light switch.  Gladio took a second to stare at himself in the mirror and assess his tiredness before he turned around to get a look at his back.  It looked fine to him as far as he could see.  A few hours of accidentally sleeping on it hadn’t done much, but it didn’t feel all that great either. 

But then again he hadn’t expected it to.

He turned the water on and let it heat up a little bit, but not too much.  Gladio took care to wash his hands and then raised his left arm above his head to try and reach back towards his shoulder blades.  Try, was all he could do.

Thanks to a bout of soreness from a gym session earlier in the week, and the sheer size of his biceps, he struggled to reach any further.  He tried as hard as he could without injuring himself but could barely get his finger tips to where he needed them to land on his back.

He tried again, this time with his arm twisting up behind himself to reach between his shoulder blades.  But his arm kept brushing against the rest of the tattoo.

Admittedly he wasn’t the most flexible person in the world, but Gladio wasn’t about to go through a full stretching routine when he was barely awake.  This was what they made washcloths for, though.  It wasn’t the most ideal material to put on his tattoo, but it would have to do.  He would be careful.

All he needed to do was wet the area and rinse soap off of it. 

It was sloppy.  He ended up having reach both of his arms behind him with the washcloth outstretched in between his hands to press water onto his back, but it got the job done.

Gladio would make sure to rinse it off better indirectly in the shower later on that day.  It already felt much more comfortable.

But Gladio’s relief was short lived once he caught sight of the tube of healing ointment resting on the countertop.

He really needed someone else to do this for him.

*

ii. His shoulder

“’Sup big guy?  What’re you doing here this early?”

A voice that was way too cheerful for the current time shocked him. 

But Gladiolus found himself barely holding in a snarl at what else had accompanied the voice. 

For a moment the ambient noise in the café completely filtered out and all Gladio heard was the echo of a loud smack still ringing in his ears, but mostly on his right shoulder. 

His freshly tattooed shoulder.

“Prompto,” he breathed out as calmly as he could manage.  This kid was too friendly for his own good.  Wasn’t he supposed to be in school anyway?

“What?  What happened?” the younger man flopped onto the chair across from him, but the look on his face conveyed that he was already sorry for whatever it was.

Gladio closed his eyes and took a deep breath in.  It was too early for this, for anything.  But he would let it go.  All he wanted was to eat his breakfast and get to work.

“You might want to wash that hand,” Gladio let out another slow breath through his mouth before taking another sip of his coffee.

“What?”  Prompto brought his left hand up to his face and studied it as if he had never seen it before in his life.  “What did you do?”

“Got some more work done on this thing last night,” Gladio tilted his head towards his shoulder.

“Oh!”

If Gladio looked hard enough, he could have almost sworn he saw the blond flinch when he mentioned the tattoo.  But whatever the reaction was had been gone in a split second before he got up and started begging him to have a look.

Prompto had forgotten all about his hand.

But unfortunately for him, Gladio wasn’t in the mood to take his shirt off in the middle of breakfast.  The blond sat back down in his chair having to be content with what parts of the feathers he could see from Gladio having carefully rolled up the sleeve of his entirely too tight shirt.

“So your back is all done then, huh?”  Prompto had returned to his chair with his own coffee.

“Just about I think,” Gladio nodded.

Now that it was over he could admit healing his back over the last couple of months was absolute hell, he only hoped his arms would be easier.  But somewhere deep down he knew that was unlikely.

“Then two more weeks and you’ll be right back in that chair again,” said Prompto.

“You gotta let me photograph it once it’s all healed!  How many more sessions do you think you have?  Are you working one arm at a time or are they switching back and forth?”

“Prompto,” Gladio failed at hiding his amusement, “one thing at a time.”

But Gladio did have to admit he wouldn’t be opposed to having someone photograph him once the tattoo was all done.  With as much money and pain he had put in so far, he figured it deserved to be immortalized on film. 

“You can take all the pictures you want once it’s all finished.  As long as I’ve sat in that chair…” he trailed off.

“Oh definitely,” Prompto agreed. 

“And we’re working on one arm at a time,” Gladio continued.

“I bet you’ll be glad once it’s all over though.  You’ve been super dedicated going in like clockwork.  You’ll be done in no time.”

Gladio thought back to his very first session.  He could handle most pain, but he truly didn’t know what to expect when it came to tattoos.  He’d of course had an idea from talking to friends who had them but he hadn’t known for sure until he was sitting in that chair himself.  The artist had told him that they’d start with the tail on his lower back first and work up and he was fine with that. 

“ _You alright?_ ”  The artist had started off with a tiny line just so Gladio could know what sensation to expect.

” _Yeah, it’s fine_ ,” Gladio nodded.  It felt like a scratch, nothing too bad at that point.

He did his best to not show it but after a while of being worked on, the façade of the unbothered King’s shield that he had so carefully constructed was beginning to crack.  He could withstand most things thrown at him, of course.  But this was different.  It was almost a self-inflicted kind of pain.  He had chosen to have this done and over a prolonged period of time, too.

Truthfully, even after this many hours, he couldn’t exactly say he was used to the pain.  Well, if he could even call it that.  At this point the constant scratching sensation was more annoying to him than painful.  But at least now he could sit through it with relatively little problem.  He learned after that first session that it was best to bring a book along to help distract himself.  The real pain always came directly after, during the healing process.  But every time he looked at the work that had been done so far, he felt proud.  This was another badge of honor for him.  Almost another kind of scar that told its own story.

“So what’s the grand meaning behind it anyway?”  Prompto brought him out of his thoughts.

“Hmm?”  Gladio titled his head toward the younger man, having not heard him.

“You know, they always say tattoos are supposed to have meaning…or at least they should anyway...”

“Well, some of them don’t.”  Gladio smiled to himself.

“You keeping secrets from us, big guy?”

“Maybe I’ll tell you guys one of these days,” Gladio shrugged, continuing to smile into his coffee.

He suddenly looked back at Prompto, a seriousness taking over.

“Really though…maybe you oughta wash that hand.”

*

iii. His underarm

Sometimes simply having to look at his tattoo as it was healing was the part he hated the most.

He wasn’t one to get grossed out by blood, but if he stared too long the little drops of it that stuck to his skin after a tattoo session were _almost_ enough to make him feel light headed.  The coming days with the skin flaking and peeling off weren’t any more appealing to him.  And then there was the itching.  Smacking at his skin could only distract him for so long. 

There was also the consequence of having parts of the tattoo worked on at different times.  Different parts of the tattoo were always at different stages of healing.

But Gladio soon learned having to look at a healing tattoo would be nothing compared to actually getting his armpit tattooed. 

It was like he had forgotten everything he knew about being tattooed or the healing process.  Most importantly, the pain.  He could admit that the first sitting hurt, he had definitely been in pain.  Over time it became less and less because he now knew what to expect. 

He had been warned the first time that he even spoke to the artist and they went over exactly what they would be tattooing, that this area would hurt more than he had been used to.  But he thought he was prepared to face it.  He figured he had already faced and could face much worse in his line of work.  He had already gotten his entire back tattooed.  His armpit was only a tiny island compared to his back.

Gladio lied on his back, his right arm elevated above his head, not knowing what to expect, but sure that he could tough it out.

No amount of “this will hurt, _a lot_ ,” had prepared him for this.  No book had a plot interesting enough to distract him from the fire that was being etched into his armpit.  He had prepared for the absolute worst that day and that was exactly what he got and then some. 

The artist would stretch out his skin to get a cleaner line and Gladio thought he felt his soul leaving his body.  He would shade a feather and Gladio couldn’t stop a groan from escaping his mouth; the first time he had ever been vocal about his pain level during this tattoo.  Whenever his artist would move to either his chest or his shoulder to make sure everything was connecting well, Gladio felt nothing but relief.  But just as soon as he felt like he could breathe again, the scratching started back up.  The sensations on his underarm were nothing like the discomfort he had felt on his back.  This was like getting his back tattooed, but the machine was replaced with fire and the fire injected venom into the wound along with ink.

He did his best that night to put on a brave face and just sit through it.  He kept reminding himself that this wouldn’t last forever, but as time went on it was harder and harder to hide his discomfort. 

“You’re tensing up a little,” the artist would say, more times than Gladio wanted to hear.

Gladio knew he was just trying to make him feel better.  Gladio was fighting him and he knew it, but he couldn’t help it.  He tried to breathe in and out but it did next to nothing.  He tried his hardest not to pull away from the tattoo machine, but the longer he tried to hold on, the more he felt himself physically recoiling.  He would relax just enough for a few moments but the nerves would take over again.

They were finally done about an hour later.  Gladio carefully raised his right arm and looked at it in the mirror afterwards.  There was no detail lost.  The feathers there looked just as good as the rest of his tattoo and flowed seamlessly from what work had already been done, but Gladio still wondered if his artist had cut the session a little shorter because of his fidgeting.  It was the shortest appointment he’d sat through so far, but it had felt like an eternity. 

He finally took a look at the rest of this body and realized he was covered in sweat.  A first for him, during his tattoo.  But it wasn’t surprising considering how hard he had been gripping the chair underneath him. 

His artist pat him on his opposite shoulder and tried to tell him that he had done great.

“Didn’t feel too great though,” he tried to joke back, before shaking his hand and leaving.

He set out into the cool night air to head back to his place and finally try to get some rest.  Thankfully the air was hitting him in all the right places underneath his open coat.  At least he wouldn’t have to worry about excess sweat so soon this time.

“Gladio!” a very familiar voice called out to him from behind.

“Iggy?” he turned around to make sure he was hearing correctly.

“What’re you doing out here this late?”

Ignis huffed, and Gladio could tell he had been running.

“You okay there?”

“I’m fine,” Ignis waved his concerns off.  “I was trying to get to you before you left.”

Gladio noticed something under his arm.  A smile formed on his face as he realized it was a very familiar looking book.

“You left this behind in the lounge earlier, I thought you might need it for tonight.  But it appears I’ve arrived too late,” Ignis continued.

“Nah,” Gladio shook his head, amused that Ignis had cared enough to bring his book all the way out here to him. 

“Thanks man, but turns out I didn’t really need it this time.”

“Really?”  Ignis quirked an eyebrow up at him.

“Let’s just say I might have underestimated how uncomfortable getting your armpit tattooed was,” said Gladio, taking care to not use the word “hurt.”

“Let’s walk,” Gladio titled his head towards the street.

“Is that so?”  Ignis followed.

“I had no idea that was what was being worked on tonight.  I guess people really do get tattoos everywhere then.”

“Yeah he brought it up a while back that if I wanted it to look exactly the way I wanted, it’d have to wrap around my arms...underarm area included,” said Gladio.

“May I ask,” Ignis began and Gladio could almost hear a grin form on his mouth, “did it hurt much?  I mean, worse than what you’ve had done so far?”

Gladio gave a hearty laugh, no need to play this off.

“Listen, when he was working on my back, it was annoying at best.  But that in there?…It really might have been some of the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my life,” Gladio answered.

“Don’t get your armpit tattooed, Iggy,” Gladio went on, “It already burns a lot worse than my back ever did.  That’s my advice to you.”

“Well I wasn’t planning on any tattoos any time soon, unfortunately.”

“True, I really couldn’t imagine you with a tattoo in the first place,” Gladio teased.

“I’m afraid body art isn’t for me.  But I do admire those who find something they enjoy enough to have it placed on their bodies forever.  It is a form of artwork, after all.  I think yours is turning out well so far,” Ignis said, sincerely.

“Thanks man.”

“Soon all the pain you’ve gone through might just be worth it.”  Ignis added.

Gladio was grateful that Ignis had shown up to keep him company, even if he had been late.  His presence was enough to make the walk back to his place a lot more enjoyable and a lot less painful than it would have been otherwise.

“Too bad there aren’t any potions to help this to heal faster, huh?”  Gladio asked, only half joking as he clutched at his shoulder.

“Unfortunately there is no curative for that yet,” Ignis answered seriously.  

“Besides,” Ignis continued, “using a potion to heal a tattoo would just be cheating now, wouldn’t it?”

*

iv. His left arm (finally)

It had been a few months, and another armpit tattoo later, but Gladio was now much more covered than when he had first started.  His back was completely finished, his first underarm tattoo had healed, followed closely by the feathers on his right forearm; and he was now in the process of healing his other armpit tattoo and finishing up work on the left side of his body.

“So I can go, then?  You really don’t mind?”

The younger dark haired man buzzed around Gladio’s shoulder as he looked through his fridge for a soda or any kind of sugary drink.

“Why would I mind?”  Gladio asked as he found what he was looking for in the fridge.  “It’s not like I’m trying to keep this thing a secret or that I can’t stand you that much, man.”

“I just gotta text Ignis real quick and let him know I went with you, it should be fine,” said Noctis, typing away on his phone.

It would be fine. He’d be distracted, but it wasn’t like Gladio was leading the prince into certain danger.  Now in his final year of school and living on his own, Noctis didn’t necessarily have to “ask permission” from anyone; but he did at least have to let someone know where he was headed.  Other than that, it was Gladio’s call. 

Plus he really enjoyed the few times one of the guys had been able to accompany him to his appointments.  It always made them go by much faster.

“Oh yeah, don’t want a repeat of last time you went out without telling him,” Gladio grinned back at Noctis. 

“God he wouldn’t shut up for three days, all because I stayed at the arcade and got a little distracted,” he sighed.  “It wasn’t my fault he kept calling whenever I got to the boss fight!”

“’A _little_ distracted,’ he says,” Gladio laughed.

“You gotta give him a break sometimes, man.  It’s his job to know where you are, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Noctis rolled his eyes and gave that wave of his hand that meant he knew Gladio was right but wouldn’t outright say it.

“Anyway, we going or not?”  Gladio raised his eyebrows.

“I’m right behind you,” Noctis said as he gestured towards the front door of his place, waiting for Gladio to get on his way.

“I get to see you in actual pain for once.  This is gonna be the best afternoon ever,” Noctis continued as he made sure the door locked behind them.

Turning his back was only his first mistake.  Before Noctis could even expect Gladio’s response, he had already been placed into a headlock.

“You little…”

“Hey!”  Noctis’s yells were muffled by his coat.  “Fine, I give!...I give!”  Noctis flailed his arms as best as he could, and then he was finally released.

“I’m bringing you along as a guest and this is how you treat me.”  If Gladio could pout he would have been doing it right then.

“Alright, alright.  I’ll be good,” Noctis rolled his eyes at the older man.

They finally made their way down the hall to the elevator to take them to the ground floor.  The elevator ride down was already much quieter; with Gladio just glad that the tattoo machine wouldn’t be going anywhere near his underarm this time, and Noctis lost in his own thoughts.

“So, are you nervous?”  Noctis asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Not really,” Gladio answered honestly.  “I’ve been going there regularly enough now, I kinda know what to expect.”

“You’re almost done, aren’t you?  You’ve just got this arm left, do you think they can finish it tonight?” Noctis asked, curiously.

“I don’t know about that,” Gladio replied, his hand coming to rest underneath his chin.

“Really don’t think he can do my whole arm in one sitting.  And I don’t think I’d be willing to sit through all that in one night either,” he said as he shook his head.

A sudden rush of adrenaline ran through Gladiolus.  He hadn’t been thinking about his progress until Noctis pointed it out.  He went to his appointments every two weeks, usually, without fail but hadn’t realized how close they were to being finished.  The big project he and his artist had started on so many months ago was almost coming to an end.  There would only be this much more skin left to heal.  No more worries about how his clothes were fitting him, or having to be careful about how he slept, or people who didn’t know hitting him in the wrong spots.  It would all be over soon.

“Yeah, you’ve got dedication dude.  I know I probably wouldn’t show up to something that painful on a regular basis.”

Gladio laughed at his friend’s comment.

“You know, it hurts but it doesn’t hurt _that_ much.  And that’s not just me trying to be tough.  It’s just some spots hurt more than others.”

“Ha, I bet,” Noctis teased him.  “Iggy told me what you said after you got your armpit worked on.”

Of course he had.

“Listen!”  Gladio explained.  “That’s just a sensitive area in general, I’d like to see you sit perfectly still through that.”

“No thank you,” Noctis replied, as he practically flew out of the elevator door.

“That’s what I thought.”

After a very loud walk down several streets complete with arguing about Noctis’ hypothetical first tattoo, they finally found themselves at the shop.  Gladio sat and waited for his artist to get ready, noticing that Noctis had wasted no time in making himself at home.  He had immediately plopped into a chair at the front of the store and started keenly flipping through the various portfolios.

“See anything you like in there?”  Gladio called over to him, a slight smile on his face.

“Uh huh,” Noctis answered not looking up at him.

“His Highness isn’t squeamish or anything is he?” the artist asked Gladio quietly.  “I mean I’d imagine not because…you know, and this isn’t particularly bloody nowadays, but I just want to make sure.”

“He’ll be fine,” said Gladio, with a shake of his head.  “Plus, he can’t leave without me anyway.”

His artist smiled to himself.

“Well, I guess we’ll get started then.”

There was a cool, wet sensation on his left bicep as the artist got his skin sanitized and ready.  A stencil was placed very carefully on his arm, and then he watched the artist mark a few careful guidelines on his arm.

“Oh,” he trailed off, staring at Gladio’s arm.

“What’s up?” Gladio asked.

“The elbow…if we get that far tonight, just know it might hurt…like a lot,” the artist answered.

“Oh I can’t wait to see this,” Noctis peeked his head out from above the portfolio he had been looking at, knowing he was safe behind the covers.

Gladio simply pretended he hadn’t heard that.

“Listen, I got both of my armpits tattooed by you,” he laughed. 

“I don’t even care anymore.  Just bring it on.”

“As you wish,” the artist replied as he got the ink ready.

“I’m paying you, ain’t I?” Gladio joked as the needle hit his skin.

“Hey Noct,” Gladio turned his attention back to his friend.

“Come see me get hurt,” he continued not even flinching.

“Pull up a chair, Highness.”

Noctis hovered a safe distance above Gladio’s arm, before he finally sat in the offered chair.  His curiosity seemingly having been satisfied for the moment.

“Hmm,” he remarked to himself.  “Never seen this done before…”

Gladio almost laughed at how focused the prince was on what was happening.  Noctis watched intently as the artist continued to draw along Gladio’s arm.  He watched him outline shapes that would later become feathers.  He watched as the artist switched from outlining feathers to shading them, and all without the guide of a stencil.

“You sure it doesn’t hurt?” Noctis smirked from his chair.

“Do you see any tears yet?” Gladio asked.  “I think I’m good.”

Gladio hadn’t been lying when he said he was more or less used to it by now, but he knew Noctis would never believe him anyway.  The only time he even winced was when the machine had moved closer to the underside of his arm, but Noctis hadn’t been looking then.

“Are you alright?” he heard Noctis ask what felt like only a few moments later.

There was one part toward the middle of his bicep that the tattoo artist had been shading for what felt like a particularly long time now.  Gladio had closed his eyes and tried to focus on breathing steadily, but his face must have been showing that it hadn’t been working.

He took a deep breath.

“I’ll manage,” Gladio replied more sharply than he had intended.

“That just doesn’t look too comfortable dude,” said Noctis, concern in his voice.

“It’s all part of the process,” Gladio tried to reassure him.  The last thing he needed was for Noctis to get nervous.

“It’s not gonna kill me,” he joked.  “I’ve felt worse.”

Noctis continued talking to him about every mundane thing that crossed his mind, it seemed.  He had even brought up how the weather had been shittier than normal lately.  Gladio was already annoyed with the constant scratching at his arm and Noct’s constant comments.   He was _this_ close to asking Noctis what his problem was, until he realized what he was doing.

Noctis was just trying to keep Gladio talking to help him to get him through it.

Gladio allowed himself a small smile as he agreed with Noctis about how awful the weather had been.

Noctis was a greater friend to him than he realized sometimes.  And before he even knew it, the artist had moved to work on a different part of his arm.  And thankfully it was a section that wasn’t as sensitive as before. 

He continued to listen as Noctis made polite small talk with the tattoo artist about how tattoo machines worked and his career.  He was silently impressed when he heard Noctis even throw out a few compliments about the artist’s work and what he had seen on Gladio so far. 

He opened his eyes to check the progress on his arm, but couldn’t miss Noctis staring closely at him. 

“…how long have you been growing your hair out like that?” he asked.

“Oh…this?” Gladio patted the back of his hair that he had unintentionally let get longer these days.

“Guess I’ve been getting kind of lazy about going to the barber lately…” he shrugged his free shoulder.

“You sure have,” Noctis continued, his eyes narrowing.

“Get a haircut, ya goddamn hippie.”

Gladio snorted at Noctis’ stern voice and his failed attempt at an order.  He almost thought he heard his tattoo artist laugh as well.

“Um, yes sir?” Gladio agreed, sarcastically.  “I’ll definitely get to the barber first thing in the morning now.”

He didn’t know how long he had been sitting at that point, but it looked like they were already over halfway done with his upper arm.  Gladio closed his eyes once again to bring his mind away from the annoying sensation on his arm.  It felt like this entire session had gone by in a flash.  And he only had Noctis to thank for constantly distracting him with his random comments.

Bringing him along had been a good idea, after all.

Gladio raised his eyebrows as the machine left his skin again.  They had reached the stopping point for this session.  The artist hadn’t reached his elbow and decided to give him a break, but after this all that was left would be the last of the feathers wrapping around his forearm.  That was it; just a small section of his body was left to be covered.  He could finally see the finish line after months and months.

He didn’t even dread the healing process as much anymore.

“So, how bad was it?” Noctis asked as they made their way back.

“I keep telling you, I’ll be fine,” Gladio said as he loosely put an arm around Noctis’ shoulders.

Gladio was surprised Noctis had kept the teasing and jokes to a minimum that night.  He wouldn’t bring it up, but he appreciated it, nonetheless.

“But I can’t believe it’s almost done,” Gladio continued, a sense of ease around him.

“Thanks for coming, Noct.”

“Any time, big guy,” Noctis lifted his fist up to meet Gladio’s.

“And then when I finally decide what I want my first tattoo to be, I expect you to be there too.”

“Really?” Gladio asked, surprise in his voice.  “You’re actually considering it now?” 

“Hell no.”

**Author's Note:**

> So this was written long before I knew what I know now about Gladio's tattoo, so I acknowledge the end of that scene with Prompto (and lbr maybe a few other things) is a little...off lol. Maybe I'll fix it one of these days. But
> 
> As always, thanks for reading if you made it this far :3


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